


Chronicles of the Dyrnwyn Squad

by Crankytoaster



Category: Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer 40.000
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26248900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crankytoaster/pseuds/Crankytoaster
Summary: An immersive tale chronicling the exploits of the Dyrnwyn Squad. The characters are the primary focus of the story, superimposed over exciting and detailed combat.





	1. Chronicles of the Dyrnwyn Squad Prologue - Chapter 1

Chronicles of the Dyrnwyn Squad

Prologue - Chapter 1

* * *

Planet Minos IV in the Year 2 714 584.M41 of our Emperor's Eternal Crusade

* * *

My Lord Inquisitor,

Inside this letter, I have enclosed the personal logs and various snippets of information gathered regarding the members of the Dyrnwyn squad. It appears that the squad was formed roughly four terran standard years ago in transit from the Draconis system. 

During the siege of Draconis II, the Cadian 135th was sent to relieve the beleaguered forces laying siege to the planet. Upon translation to the system, the situation seemed rather dire. A mix-up from the Adeptus Administratum had led to the assignment of a recently formed regiment of Valhallan Ice Warriors to the shorching plains of Draconis II. When faced with the excruciating heat and much fiercer resistance than expected, the junior officers in command were unable to maintain good order as the regiment was quickly routed after a frontal assault on the Planetary Governor's stronghold.

With the arrival of the Cadian 135th to the planet’s surface, the Valhallan regiment was still in the midst of regrouping and establishing a clear chain of command. As the siege lines were drawn, cold weather gear was replaced with fresh supplies aboard the “Redemptor’s Fury” and the generals prepared for a protracted battle. It is in a firefight on the outskirts of the battlefield that we find the founding member of the Dyrnwyn squad fighting for his life.

Ave Imperator

Sincerely yours,

Scrivener Valdis

* * *

A desolate town on Draconis II in the Year 6 138 580.M41 of our Emperor’s Eternal Crusade

* * *

“In the towering inferno shall your fate be sealed” - The One Eyed Poet

* * *

It was a quiet evening patrol that had led the veteran squad “Heartbreak” to a recently abandoned town on the far flank of the battlefield. The welcome sign was studded with craters from where stray lasbolts must have impacted. The name of the town was unrecognizable. As was any sign of the townsfolk that once resided within the bombed out skeletal remains of the town. The eerie silence of the ghost town still left the experienced squad on edge as they traveled deeper into the town.

“Kind of reminds you of home doesn’t it?” said Corporal Wiseman, motioning to their surroundings. Anything to break the uncomfortable silence was always welcome, and banter between the squad never hurt during long and rather boring patrols.

“Home? Back on Cadia we had deamon incursions every tuesday! On this rock all we have to worry about is the PDF finally figuring out how to tie their shoelaces properly.” chuckled Private Simmons.

“Back home we have them fancy Elysian Fields, all I see here is a whole load of nothin’. Ya know, I once went there on a field trip when I was a boy, and I snuck back a chunk of one of them freaky xeno pillars. I swear, ever since then I could see into the past” 

“I’m sure that the pylon fragment just fried whatever was left of your brain, Cletus. It’s normal to remember what you ate for breakfast the day before numbnuts.”

“Aw shucks, I thought I got some of them fancy alien mind powers.”

“All this talk about home, makes me miss me mum’s cooking.”

“Oh shut it Snowball, we all know your mother’s cooking was absolute shite. Remember what happened the last time you got a care package from home?”

“Cut the chatter, and stay focused on the mission! I want all of you to keep your eyes and ears open, so you can keep those empty heads of yours in one piece!” I barked Sergeant Parker. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” muttered Private Stevens at the back of the loose diamond formation.

“Stevens! Latrine duty and double PT for the next week! I hope you like busting your ass because that's all you’ll have time for once we get back to base!” Parker hollered. “You don’t get to become sergeant without having fox-like hearing.” said the Sergeant, followed by one of his trademarked belly laughs.

Corporal Wiseman quietly smiled at all of the chatter radiating from the Heartbreak squad. He cherished these quiet moments of the bonds of brotherhood forged by blood in the flames of countless war torn worlds. They were his family and the most important people in his life, he couldn’t even imagine what his life would be like without them.

Rounding a street corner marred by craters from stray artillery shells, Wiseman spotted the shattered visage of what used to be a diner. “Sarge, why don’t we let the men rest and eat some grub over there.” Wiseman pointed to the remnants of the diner tucked away further down the street.

“What an excellent idea, Wiseman. Do you hear that boys? We are moving out to that diner down the street and setting up a temporary command post. You have an hour to eat and take a load off before we complete the patrol and head back to base.”

The men began to mutter in disappointment for the short duration of the break mentioned during the Sergeant’s announcement.

“Or, we can double time it and extend our patrol to the next town over. That is if you boys aren’t happy with the current arrangement.” announced Sergeant Parker with a wicked grin flashing across his face.

Immediately, the quiet mutterings of the men changed into cheers of gratitude and praise for the Sergeant’s kindness.

“See, look how nice it is when you boys take what you can get, and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

After that exchange, the squad headed down the street and began to fortify the diner. As the men began to prepare their combat rations, Sergeant Parker pulled Corporal Wiseman aside. Not knowing what was going on, Wiseman noticed the serious expression written across the Sergeant’s grizzled features and became increasingly uneasy. 

“Listen son, I would first like to say that it has been a pleasure to command this squad for throne knows how long. I wanted to tell you first before we break the news to the men. I would never willingly leave this squad, but it seems that my service has been noticed by the Regimental Brass and they have assigned me to report to the OCS pending a promotion to 2nd Lieutenant. I fought them as best as I could, after all a grunt like me should stay with his squad until the end. But you know those stuck up REMFs are, they just said that ‘The decision is already made, and you will not refuse this honor.’ There is no one that I trust more to lead my men than you Wiseman, take care of Heartbreak Squad for me.” Sergeant Parker was visibly distraught, which was a shock to Wiseman as the Sergeant was always the image of the gruff, no nonsense military man. Wiseman felt a deep sadness knowing that the times spent together as Heartbreak Squad will never be the same without their leader.

Corporal Wiseman’s head was spinning with the revelation of this soul crushing information and he struggled to come up with a response. His racing mind was full of things that he wanted to say, but he would never get the chance to utter any of them as a deafening explosion of a mortar shell marked the end of his golden years with Heartbreak Squad.

* * *

**=I= Thought of the Day =I=**

**Not for Kings, Not for Glory, But for the Ones Next to Me**

A/N: I am only writing this whenever I have free time from my studies, as such there will not be any kind of regular schedule for releases. This is a passion project for me as I have always wanted to write a story for years, so I really hope this ends up becoming something with substance instead of a fleeting fancy. Anyways, I hope that the readers of my story will enjoy the tale that I will craft.


	2. Chapter 2

Chronicles of the Dyrnwyn Squad

Prologue - Chapter 2

An abandoned town on Draconis II in the Year 4 138 580.M41 of our Emperor’s Eternal Crusade

* * *

"In the Crucible of Battle, the True Face of Man is Revealed" - The One-Eyed Poet

* * *

The shockwave of the mortar shell detonating just outside of the diner knocked Corporal Wiseman off his feet and sent him flying into the wall. With a bone rattling crash, Wiseman impacted the wall and felt his lungs give as the wind was knocked out of him. Swearing profusely, Wiseman struggled to get back on his feet; his ears ringing and blood trickling down from his forehead. The loud bark of autogun fire and the distinctive cracks of a dozen Imperial Guard lasguns snapped Corporal Wiseman back into combat focus as his military training kicked in. Bullets peppered the walls of the diner, as the rebel soldier’s gunfire raked Heartbreak Squad’s position. Wiseman quickly rushed to the blown out wall of rubble and began to pour lasgun fire into the enemy forces situated near the mouth of the street.

Sergeant Parker, who was taking cover on the other side of the rubble shouted over to Wiseman. He could only make out some of the words in between the loud report of the Sergeant’s bolt pistol, “Son are you still alive?” BANG! The mass reactive round from the Sergeant’s weapon buried itself into the torso of an unlucky PDF trooper. The round immediately detonated, erupting into a fountain of viscera and ichor as the trooper was turned into a bloody stump.

Wiseman loosed a few shots from his lasgun, and shouted back to the Sergeant, “Heh, it will take a lot more than one lousy mortar shell to kill me! I’d expect no less than an entire company to put me down.” The searing bolts punched a neat row of fist sized holes into a flak armored rebel soldier. The next target was not quite so lucky, as he was garbed in the standard synthetic polymer vests which were designed to stop ballistic weapons. The directed energy weapons of the Guardsmen burned straight through as if it were paper. Immediately, the bolt vaporized the exposed flesh underneath; causing an explosion of meat as the gasses violently escaped the confines of the body. 

Following standard procedure for a firefight, the Heartbreak squad split into two separate fireteams. Wiseman quickly repositioned to take command of the second team fireteam on the other side of the diner. As he ran he could vaguely hear Sarge yelling at the Vox Operator to give him a line to the Field Headquarters. He quickly pushed the Sargeant’s out of his head as he needed to be entirely focused on keeping his men alive.

“FOR THE EMPEROR!” A resounding battle cry from the lungs of the Guardsmen, filled the men’s spirit anew as they began fighting with fervent vigor. 

The surprise from the ambush was quickly shaken off, as the disciplined fire from the veteran Guardsmen squad took a deadly toll on the rebel troops. Thankfully, the Guardsmen’s standard issue flak armor protected their torsos from the deadly autogun fire. Occasionally, the PDF’s fire found its mark, with screams of pain marking each hit as the high caliber bullets tore through exposed flesh. With the element of surprise gone, the PDF found themselves greatly outclassed as their platoon was cut down with ruthless efficiency.

As the rather one sided skirmish was wrapping up, Wiseman turned and saw one of his men laugh as his helmet deflected a shot that would have taken his head. Only to have the follow up shot land square in his face, splattering his brains across the building. 

It was as if time had stopped in that single second. Frozen in place, Wiseman saw with mounting horror as his friend's smiling face was warped into a revolting stream of gore. The remnants of his friend’s head were plastered onto the wall behind him. It was a grotesque fresco, a monument to the horrific beauty of slaughter.

It was as if something had snapped in Wiseman. Enraged at his friend’s unceremonious death, he ROARED as the madness of battle overtook his senses, “THOSE GOD DAMNED BASTARDS! I WILL KILL YOU ALL! AAAAGGHHHHHH!” His lasgun spat a hail of fully automatic bolts as he emptied his power pack into the enemy platoon. Only a few shots found their mark, with the majority of the wild fusilade uselessly impacting the building behind the enemy platoon.

Behind Wiseman, a rookie member of the squad stammered, fearful that the Corporal’s rage would be directed towards him. “Uh Sir, the the enemy is uh re-re-reinforcing with several platoons from the um other end of the street Sir.”

Seething with rage, Wiseman snarled “Heavy weapons! Give me heavy weapons NOW!”

Four men quickly ran back to the rear of the diner to haul the heavy boltor and heavy flamer into firing position at the window sill. The massive ammunition box and promethium tanks were heavy, unwieldy things that the men drew straws to see who would be the unlucky bastard that had to carry it on patrol. Even through the men’s complaints and grumbling, the big guns have saved Heartbreak Squad’s asses from certain death on countless occasions. Wiseman was counting on their enormous firepower to cut through the horde of PDF soldiers that were inbound.

“Sir, I’m ready to get some payback for what those bastards did to Jenkins. Let's make them wish they were never born.”

“Kill for the Living! Kill for the Dead!” the squad chanted as they faced down the encroaching enemy horde.

The sudden cessation of fire coming from Fireteam B gave the rebel reinforcements a surge of confidence as it had appeared that their overwhelming numbers had severely weakened the Guardsmen. Seizing the opportunity, the glory seeking officers ordered a frontal assault to mop up the rest of the survivors. The reinforcements came crashing down the street in a wave of human bodies. The incompetant officers were watching from the rear, shooting any soldier that disobeyed their suicidal orders. 

The seeming invulnerability and confidence of the charge evaporated in an instant as the rebel soldiers spotted the two massive barrels sticking out of the smashed windowsill.

A single shout marked their doom, “FIRE!” The guns opened up in a crescendo of death.

The heavy boltor commenced firing first, snuffing out life with every bark of its barrel. The barrel seethed crimson fumes like a dragon from myth, as the ammunition canister was emptied into the encroaching horde. The rebel soldiers were mercilessly cut down, falling with gaping holes where their torsos used to be. The mass reactive rounds tore into the encroaching horde and detonated in a cacophony of slaughter. The road was transformed into a butcher's abattoir, blood and spilled entrails coating the street in the sick artistry of butchery.

The heavy flamer spat molten hellfire and coated the entire street in perdition's flames. Men who were only a second before charging into battle were melted down into lumps of stinking meat. The majority were not so lucky as to receive a direct hit, most burst into flames and turned into miniature suns. Some desperately tore at their clothing to no avail, their clothes have long since melted into their skin. In their frenzy to put out the flames, they began to rip apart their flesh in manic fury. The screams of madness took over as men watched in absolute terror when their flesh began slough off their bones. The flames of gehenna had no shred of mercy, it continued the slaughter until all that remained were the scorched lumps of meat. The anguished screams of the damned filled the ghost town in a horrific chorus of death.

In the hellish aftermath of the ill fated charge from the PDF soldiers, the scant few survivors fled in terror at the sight of the wholesale slaughter of their brethren. 

The horrors of war never ceased to terrify Wiseman as he slowly began to slip out of his battle trance. He looked out to the terrifying hellscape left in the aftermath of the battle. Over a hundred charred bodies were splayed out on the street in various states of decay. The quiet backwater town was no more, transformed into a charnel house filled with the acrid stench of smoldering flesh. The sight and smell was enough to make any sane man claw his eyes out at the sheer scale of madness and destruction. 

In the heat of the moment, a soldier’s duty is to his brothers and any action is acceptable to further that righteous goal. It is only in the quiet aftermath that Wiseman is confronted with the consequences of his actions. He knew that there was no glory or honor to be had in battle. War is callous, brutal, and messy; there was no use in trying to reform it. 

It was his duty as a soldier of the Imperium to fight and die in the Emperor's name. That platitude still managed to provide some measure of solace as he waded through the burning sea of the dead, but they never truly quieted his mind to the bloody aftermath of battle. 

Wiseman stared up into the sky and imagined his infantesimal place in the Emperor’s Imperium. He knew that there were an untold number of soldiers just like him fighting and dying in the Emperor’s eternal crusade. For just a moment he came to the cold realization that no amount of valor, heroism, or strength could save the rotting carcass of the Imperium. There was no hope of salvation, and it was only through the blood of men like him that humanity can survive one day at a time.

His thoughts were abruptly ended as he tripped face first into an immolated corpse that vaguely resembled the human form. His face was buried into the chest cavity of the nameless soldier. Wiseman struggled back onto his feet, spitting out a disgusting chunk of viscera from his mouth. He was in a dismal state, covered head to toe in blood. It was only then that he noticed the fresh blood seeping from several wounds in his chest. Fresh pain lanced through him as adrenaline wore off and he slowly made his way back into the ruined shell of the diner.

With a shaky voice, the Rookie broke the silence “We won, right Sarge?” 

Before he could respond to his soldier, Sergeant Parker’s face contorted with sickening horror as he remembered something very important. “WE NEED TO MOVE NOW!”

On cue, the mortar shelling commenced. With the PDF troops wiped out, the mortar teams were free to engage with no risk for friendly fire. This head scratching order of battle could only be explained through incompetence, as it seemed that glory seeking rebel officers wanted to personally take the heads of the Guardsmen.

With an ear splitting BOOM a mortar shell ruptured the compressed promethium tank feeding the heavy flamer. With a roar straight from hell, the fireball enveloped the entire room immolating everything inside it. Wiseman was knocked face first onto the ground, burning promethium coated his flesh. Pain exploded from every part of his body as his skin fused with his armor. The towering inferno consumed life like a starving beast, it was relentless and it consumed all. Wiseman began to feel numb as all of the neurons in his skin melted away. He knew with mounting horror that it was only a matter of time before his organs liquified and he would turn into an unrecognizable state.

The Sarge was the only member of the Heartbreak squad left standing after the relentless bombardment. His torso was covered in blood and riddled with innumerable shrapnel wounds. Yet still he stood with his bolt pistol and chainsword ready to fight to the bitter end. When a rebel officer peered into the bombed out diner not expecting any survivors: Sarge lept at him revving the chainsword and eviscerating the officer in a fountain of gore. He charged out of the entrance screaming at the top of his lungs, emptying his bolt pistol into the rebel soldiers. Shocked at the tenacity and sheer bloodlust of this inhuman angel of death, the stunned soldiers were pounced upon by the surviving madman. 

With short brutal cuts of the chainsword, Sergeant Parker tore through the rebel soldiers like a whirlwind of death. A stray gunshot rang out catching Parker in the leg knocking him to the ground, he spat “I took as many of you bastards with me. Rot in hell bas...” he was cut short as a single rebel soldier walked up and unceremoniously emptied his magazine into Parker’s head. 

After the PDF mercilessly gunned down the Sergeant, a few grenades flew through the shattered windows. It seemed that the PDF did not want to take any more chances. Confident that the area was secure, the salvage team took the few functional pieces of equipment from the wreckage. Another soldier was tasked with checking the dead, he quickly rammed each corpse with a bayonet. Wiseman who was teetering at the brink of death watched as the soldier slowly walked up to him. Surprised that someone was still alive and conscious, the soldier brought out a cruel looking knife with a wicked smile on his face. 

“This is for my brothers you piece of shit.” The rebel soldier carved a large X into Wiseman’s chest and rubbed the charred earth into it, coloring the wound a ruinous black.

“And this one is for me.” He pointed to the melting remnant of the left side of his face. 

“I’ll make sure to give you a present to remember me.” With sadistic glee, the soldier took his time, relishing every second of excruciating pain he was wreaking. Deep down he knew that there was nothing he could do to bring back his brothers. He could only find some measure of satisfaction taking vengeance on the man who so callously ordered the deaths of his brethren. He slowly brought about the knife to finish carving up the left side of Wiseman’s face. With a flourish he finished his gruesome work with a cruel vertical slash that sliced open Wiseman’s left eye. 

The skeletal remains of the diner made for a fitting grave for his beloved squad. As he lay there a smoldering corpse, Wiseman took quiet solace in the fact that he would be joining his comrades very soon.

Fading away, he heard the muffled voice of a medicae Field Chiurgeon. Dimly, he could faintly feel an injection. A stark terror seized his body at the prospect of not joining his brothers in death. With charred lips and the last measures of air in his lungs, his hoarse voice raved, “No No NO! LET ME DIE WITH MY BROTHERS!” The pitch black abyss reached out to him, and in its final embrace Corporal Wiseman was no more. 

* * *

**=I= Thought of the Day =I=**

**Only the Dead Have Seen the End of War**


End file.
